The divorce papers were printed half an hour ago. Before that, I was sitting on the couch in the living room all night.
The dozen dishes I carefully prepared remained untouched on the dining table. The Ultraman-themed cake had melted beyond recognition.
Yesterday was my son Anthony’s birthday.
My husband, Mark Lennon, told me to prepare everything, and that he would bring Anthony back for his birthday.
However, I waited for hours at home, only to be disappointed by Sophie’s post of the perfect family of four.
How ridiculous.
Mark did not expect me to ask for a divorce. He frowned and tore up the agreement.
“Lily, what’s all the fuss about? We only went to meet Sophie and forgot to tell you about it, didn’t we?”
After saying that, his gaze fell on the food on the dining table, and a hint of guilt flashed in his eyes.
His tone softened, “Fine, I forgot to call you last night. It was my fault. I will fix that. I’ll clean up the table. You go and take a nap. I’ll take you and Anthony out for a meal at noon.”
He had always been like this, slapping me hard in the face and then rewarding me with sweet gestures after.
Even if he knew that he had gone too far, he would never apologize but only grace me with a way out.
If I didn’t act accordingly, he would fight back until I give up and comply.
In the past, I would give in, but this time, I just took out another set of divorce agreements and threw it on the coffee table, “I printed dozens of copies, you can tear them up again.”
Mark was so furious that he shattered a bowl into pieces.
He impatiently stared at me and said, “Aren’t you just jealous that Anthony likes Sophie more? Lily, don’t you forget, you owe her! Anthony and I are taking care of Sophie and her daughter to atone for your sins!”
Atone for my sins? What sin?
Sophie and I were best friends. During the summer break of our junior year, she asked me to hang out.
